


everything hits at once

by sabinelagrande



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Biting, Developing Relationship, Dom Melinda May, Dom Phil Coulson, Dom/sub, F/M, First Time, Held Down, Melinda May Hates Feelings, Misogyny, Sub Melinda May, Teasing, You heard me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is bothering Melinda, and that's bothering Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything hits at once

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to dizmo, whom I bothered incessantly with this story. <3

Phil has known since their second month at the Academy. It probably would have taken longer, except that Melinda was sleeping with this guy, and Phil found out she was, and he really didn't care very much, because Melinda was just a friend of his, and it kind of had nothing to do with anything. Then one day the guy took his shirt off in the gym; he had a bruise on his back, and Phil knew in about thirty seconds why.

The guy- Phil doesn't even remember his name now- was moving sort of stiffly, rolling his shoulders; any other day at Ops it probably would have passed without comment, except for the last three days they'd been having written exams, which meant limited training. He caught Phil looking, of course; Phil doesn't know what he saw on Phil's face, but he seemed more like he was frightened than like he wanted to kick Phil's ass.

Probably a wise decision, all things considered.

It didn't even really surprise Phil when Melinda came after him, because it was pretty much what he'd do in that situation. He was sitting outside, pretending to read while he people-watched- which was to improve his surveillance skills, obviously, and not because he was bored of his book. He didn't hear her coming, but then she was standing directly in front of him, looking very tall and imposing, considering he was sitting on the ground.

"Are we going to have a problem?" Melinda challenged.

"Why would we?" Phil asked, and she gave him a look. He paused, just to be an asshole. "Unless you keep only going for his shoulders."

Melinda's eyebrows went straight up. "Excuse me?"

"You need to switch it up," Phil said. "I'm guessing he hasn't told you that he's sore?"

"Communication is not his strong suit," Melinda said grudgingly.

"I'm not here to tell you what to do," Phil said, though that was what he was doing. "But I wouldn't let him get away with it."

"I'll take that under advisement," Melinda told him, and that was pretty much it.

And Phil never saw her with the guy again, possibly because he washed out of the Academy not long after that, and the next one- Patterson, Phil remembers him, he eventually left SHIELD for MI6- never gave any sign at all that anything was wrong.

And Phil was a little sad, because maybe in another lifetime he and Melinda could have been a thing. It just wasn't worth putting his career or their friendship in jeopardy, not for something that he was certain wouldn't work out in the long run.

That was about thirty years ago. They haven't really spoken about it since, but Phil's a hundred percent sure both of them remember.

And as it turns out, it's another lifetime.

\--

Melinda is not an ice queen. Phil understands why people think that. It's easier to think that way, to see her from only one perspective, to imagine she has no depth at all. It's faster to put her in a box, to assume that's where she fits, in that place and nowhere else.

It sounds like a slightly tortured metaphor, but Hunter actually did say that one time, when he and Mack and Fitz were all a little tipsy, presumably when he thought Phil was out of earshot.

"She does," he said, waving his beer bottle. "She exists in a little anger cage, and when you open the lid she springs out like a demon-possessed jack-in-the-box."

"That's not real complimentary," Mack said.

"No, I greatly admire it," Hunter said. "I wish I had half that power."

But really, she's nothing like that at all. She has layers, tons of them, and sometimes it feels like Phil is the only person who can actually see them underneath her cold, solid exterior. It's not a very good feeling, but it is what it is.

So that makes what's going on now particularly troubling: he can't see in at all.

He never noticed that they touch all that often; the Hydra impostor putting her hand over his was one of the first things that made him suspicious about her. But apparently they do, or they did up until now, because it feels natural to do it, to touch her arm or her back, to stand close together. He only realizes that now because she keeps moving away when he reaches towards her. It's not the sharp, "get your hands off me before I break them off" movement he's seen before. She just slips away, avoids him quietly, like she's trying not to draw attention to it. 

He's really not sure what it means, but he certainly stops trying to touch her. It's just the most quantifiable part of it, the part that's easiest to see. She's shrinking back from him, stepping away, little by little. He starts to think maybe it's about his episodes, about what's happening to him- only that's not right, because those are some of the only times she acts like she used to, seems to be there, willing, not closed up.

He's fucked if he knows what's wrong. She's well within her rights to be sick of his shit; it's not exactly a good sensation, knowing that she's more or less done with him on a personal level, but it is what it is. There's only so much Phil can do.

She's tensing up, withdrawing, and Phil's starting to think he might buy Hunter's jack-in-the-box theory. He should have seen the snap coming; in a way, he knew it had to be coming, but in the moment, it is very, very surprising.

It's really kind of a relief when he can visit contacts whose loyalties he can be relatively sure of- sure enough, at least, that Phil and Melinda can meet with them in the restaurant they run, instead of out under an overpass on the edge of town. There's a big meeting room in the back and a strong possibility they'll send Phil away with copious amounts of free food, which is always a plus.

They're probably connected to organized crime in some form or fashion, but Phil hasn't asked. The food is really good, and SHIELD needs all the help it can get.

Their contact, Gorski, is an intermediary only; Phil has never knowingly met anyone who actually collects intel for him, but the facts always hold up, and that's what matters. He's a short, roundish man, friendly, always dressed well, always flanked by two bodyguards, and Phil generally likes him, at least enough to care about staying on his good side.

"Coulson," he says as they enter, shaking Phil's hand. "Good to see you again."

"Always a pleasure," Phil says. He looks at Gorski's bodyguards; one of them is familiar face, but the other one is new. "You've made a change."

Gorski shrugs. "These things happen. This is Max. Max, this is Coulson and May."

Max grins at Melinda, and Phil has a very bad feeling about it. "So you're Coulson's girl, huh?" he asks, looking her up and down. "I see why he picked you."

Gorski looks annoyed, and Phil gets the sensation that this has happened before. He looks like he's about to apologize, but then Melinda's eye twitches.

Phil braces himself.

Max is not at all expecting Melinda to punch him in the throat; he looks even less prepared when she knees him in the groin, dropping him to the floor. For a second Phil thinks she's going to have to pull her away from him, but she stops, rolling her shoulders, and steps back.

"Uh," Phil says, staring at the man on the ground, who's writhing in pain. "Sorry for that, um-" He stops, choosing his words carefully, despite the fact that, though he's shocked, he's not actually sorry at all. "Response."

Gorski holds up his hands. "My apologies, he had it coming," he says, presumably because he has two brain cells to rub together. He kicks Max in the side and hisses something at him in another language that makes him get up immediately and flee the room. Gorski holds his hand out, indicating the table. "Have a seat and let's get to business, yeah?"

"Sure," Phil says, smiling politely.

Miraculously, the meeting goes as planned otherwise; Gorski even sends them home with extra pastries as an apology, which Phil greatly appreciates. That doesn't mean that Phil's happy with what happened. Melinda just doesn't react like that normally. If he were a hostile, sure, but she knows when not to endanger something just because somebody was an ass.

She's silent the entire way back to base, and Phil's not sure what to do or say. Scolding her doesn't seem like a good idea, if it would even have any effect on her; she'd get that fuck-you look on her face and stop listening to him, which wouldn't get anybody anywhere. He gives her space, instead, time to get it back together before they talk.

A talk has been overdue for a while.

He catches her the next afternoon, going down to the gym when he knows Melinda and Skye are doing tai chi. They've been doing it together for a while, but Skye is still sneaking glances at Melinda out of the corner of her eye to make sure she's doing it right. Her movements aren't as fluid as Melinda's, but she's certainly getting better.

Skye stops when she sees him, but Melinda keeps moving. "Hey, DC," Skye says brightly. "What's up?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Phil says. "I need to talk to May for a second."

Melinda stops, lowering her hands. "Skye, leave," she says flatly.

Skye raises her eyebrows. "Well, that was blunt."

Phil winces. "Sorry, we-"

"Oh, no, I'm going," Skye assures him, grabbing her water bottle and walking out. "I know that tone of voice by now. Catch up with you later."

"Lock the door behind you," Phil tells her.

"Yeah, I figured," Skye says, already turning the knob. "Good luck, I guess."

"Something's wrong," Phil says, once Skye is gone; there's not a lot of point in delaying it.

"Nothing is wrong," she says, giving him a tight-lipped non-smile that says everything.

"You don't usually stonewall me," he says.

"There's nothing to stonewall you about," she tells him.

"You don't stonewall me because you know I know when you're doing it," Phil says. "You have a tell."

Melinda rolls her eyes. "I do not have a tell."

"See, that was your tell," he says, and she looks deeply unamused. "Did I do something to make you angry?" he tries. "You can let me know. You usually do let me know, actually."

Melinda has another tell, one that Phil wouldn't mention to her, out of sheer self-preservation. He doesn't have any clue what's bothering her or why it's made her so tense, but he knows that somewhere in her head, she just snapped. She is _going_ to be heard, and he is just going to have to ride it out.

"You already know about me," Melinda says, which is a weird way for a diatribe to start.

"I don't think I'm flattering myself when I say I know a lot of things about you," Phil says, frowning.

Melinda gives Phil the 'I cannot believe how much of an idiot you are' look, which Phil doesn't think he deserves. "You know I'm kinky."

Okay, he really, really didn't deserve it, because that is in no way something he expected her to say. "Oh," Phil says, for lack of anything better. "Hasn't come up in a while, but yeah."

"You know I'm a domme," she says.

"Yes," Phil says, unsure where all this is heading but not really liking her tone at all.

She takes a breath, but it doesn't seem like it's very calming, because she sounds pretty pissed off on the exhale. "I have never wanted to submit to anyone in my entire life."

Phil frowns in confusion. "I was taking that as read."

Melinda looks him in the eyes, staring at him like she's challenging him. "Now I do."

Phil has no idea what to say.

He doesn't ask if she's talking about Ward, because he would like to walk away from this conversation without his own balls shoved down his throat. "Okay," he says, unsure if he needs to say something else, if he's a sounding board or a participant here.

"It flies in the face of everything I have ever known about myself," she says. "Every inch of me says it's wrong, but I can't stop wanting it. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

He gives her a look. "I'm bi, Melinda, of course I know how it feels."

"And now I don't know what to do about it," Melinda says. "And that's why I'm stonewalling you." She gives him a murderous look. "Because you have a way of making my life _very_ complicated."

Oh.

Well, Phil's caught up. And reeling a little. There's also reeling.

"I don't think that's new," he says, just to cover the space where his reaction is supposed to go. He's not sure he's ever really thought about Melinda that way before. He's thought about Melinda a lot of related ways, but he's never quite considered how she'd look on her knees in front of him, her hands behind her back, with his-

He has to cut off that line of thought right there, before certain parts of his anatomy make his feelings on that subject abundantly clear.

"Are you surprised?" Melinda asks, looking at him like she can read his mind, which is a terrifying proposition.

"Yes," Phil says, before he can think better of it. "Understand that from my perspective, this came from left fucking field."

"You want it to happen," Melinda says, and it's not a question.

Phil does not respond for at least a minute, very, _very_ carefully selecting his words. "I would enjoy it a lot," he says, which he thinks is probably as safe as he can get while still telling the truth. "Final answer."

"Are you going to try to talk me into it?" she demands.

Phil narrowly resists the urge to ask her what he has to say to keep her from hitting him in the face; as much as he wants that not to happen, it's not the most productive question in the world. "I can't decide for you whether it's a step you should take or not," Phil says instead, which is and isn't an answer. "I can't force you to do anything you don't want, and I won't try. I know you wouldn't _literally_ kill me, but it would be one of those things where that's a threat and not a promise."

Melinda sighs. "Okay."

Shit, what does okay mean? That wasn't a yes-no question. Is it alright for him to _ask_ what okay means? "You could come to my room later," he says instead, careful to not make it sound like an order. "We could talk some things out."

"And by that you mean we could fuck," Melinda says flatly.

"Is this a trick question?" Phil says, frowning. "I actually do want to talk, but am I _supposed_ to say I don't want to sleep with you? Because I think we both know that would be a lie."

"I need to think," Melinda says, in a voice that brooks no dissent.

"You do that," Phil says. "I need to know that you're completely ready. This can always wait."

"Sure," she says, though she doesn't look like she believes him.

"I want to make one thing perfectly clear," Phil says, taking a step closer; maybe he's using the dom voice a little, but what better situation for it? "We are not going to do this unless you are one hundred percent certain that you want it. I am _not_ going to let you get us into a situation where you hate me because you did what you _thought_ I wanted."

"Okay," Melinda says.

"You keep saying okay, and I keep not knowing what you mean," he says. She rolls her eyes at him, but the gesture seems fond; that's a huge victory compared to the way things have been going.

"I'll let you know when I know something," she says.

"Sounds good," Phil replies. "Take your time."

"Coulson?" she says, as he turns to go, and Phil turns back around. "Don't ever interrupt my fucking tai chi again," she says. "It gives me inner peace."

"Duly noted," Phil says. That is something he feels like he may have been disturbing a lot lately without knowing it; the least he can do is not do it on purpose.

\--

It takes a few weeks; everyone almost dies again, Hydra does as it does, plots thicken, but that's not important right now. What matters right now is that it's late, late enough that no one is going to be looking for either one of them unless there's an emergency- there is no time when someone will not coming looking for them if there's an emergency, but that's life at SHIELD. Melinda is in Phil's room, looking at him like she'd really like to get on with it, and Phil doesn't really blame her.

This is the part where they'd talk, but they've done that already, tried to find the edges, worked out the details. That was actually when they ended up having sex for the first time. Phil always thought of negotiation as kind of a dry, slightly boring process, but apparently he was just doing it wrong; they both got so turned on just talking that as soon as they were done, Melinda was on top of him, riding him hard.

He likes negotiating with Melinda.

So they have their plan, and it seems solid enough. Nothing about this is easy or predictable, but sex seems to make the most sense for a starting point. Even people who don't consider themselves kinky at all have rough sex sometimes; while that's not exactly Phil's plan, the general idea is the same. Other things, things that are more overt- they wouldn't necessarily mean more, but they're harder to play off, harder to dismiss in the morning. Phil has no intention of dismissing anything, but it needs to be there, the out, in case this all turns out to have been a mistake.

But she's standing there waiting, and now is the time, do or die- well, probably not die, just be really disappointed. He almost stops to ask one more time, make sure she's really okay with this, but what she doesn't need is him hesitating, being too gentle or cautious. He has a lot to live up to; if she starts thinking she could do a better job herself, this is all going to go to shit.

Phil doesn't actually have any idea if she could. It's maybe better if he doesn't find out.

Before he can second-guess himself, he steps into her space, slipping an arm around her waist. He forgets how much shorter than him she is barefoot, and it's working to his advantage right now. He tilts her face up and kisses her, his touch light but there, a reminder. She's tense at first, but she slowly relaxes, letting him take control and keep it.

He'd like to say he's slow and seductive as he unbuttons her shirt, or maybe that he rips it open in a display of dominance; actually, he fumbles a little in his haste, wanting to get his hands on her as fast as he can. She's not wearing a bra, and she gasps softly as he slides his hand down her chest, his palm grazing over her nipple.

He lets her go for a moment, and she uses the opportunity to reach for his shirt, try to pull it off; he takes her hands and gently but firmly pushes them away. She seems a little confused, but in the next moment he's slipping his fingers under the waistband of her pants and into her panties, and she's more focused on pressing against him than anything else.

He strokes his fingers over her as they kiss, and she sighs into his mouth. She's hot and responsive and he doesn't really want to stop, because he could be pretty happy with just this, for a good long while. Unfortunately, it's not what they came here for; there are very different things on the menu.

Phil finally breaks away, pushing her pants and underwear down over her hips; she takes the hint, letting them fall and stepping out of them, kicking them away. Melinda looks at him as if to ask why he hasn't taken his clothes off yet, but he has no intention of answering, whether she asks or not. He just likes how it feels, his clothing against her naked skin; it puts her a little off-balance, at a disadvantage.

He doesn't think she's actually going to be very disadvantaged, but it's the look of the thing.

"On the bed," he says, guiding her backwards. "Keep going," he says, when she sits down. "Head on the pillow." Melinda gives him a look that says she's really just humoring him, but she does it anyway. He climbs on after her; she still has her legs slightly together, and he pushes them open, kneeling between her thighs. He has to take a minute to just look at her, underneath him and spread out, just waiting for what he wants. He wants her more than he could possibly express, but he kisses her instead of trying; it seems like such a waste of time.

"Don't move," he says, bringing her arms up and pressing her wrists down into the pillows. She doesn't react, and Phil doesn't really know why. Could be defiance, could be she just doesn't think she needs to, but either way, he needs an actual response; he raises an eyebrow at her, tightening his grip until she nods. "Good," he says, letting her go.

She doesn't move her arms when he starts kissing her, just keeps them there, even when he starts kissing down her throat. He bites her lightly at the base of her neck, and he can feel the noise she makes, just a little sound but all for him; he could stand about a billion more of those. 

He keeps moving lower, stopping here and there to suck on her skin, not quite hard enough to leave marks but certainly enough to get a reaction, to make her move underneath him. He finally reaches her nipple, taking it into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it- and that's when he feels it, her hand on the back of his head.

Melinda looks confused when he breaks off abruptly, sitting up; he grabs her arms, slamming them back down over her head, pinning her in place.

Phil bends down over her, looking her in the eye. "I said stay where I put you," he says evenly.

He realizes that it's a big test; he knows she's dead serious about this happening, but potential and practice are different things. She might get angry and fight him, she might be afraid and, well, fight him, she might do half a dozen things that will make him put a stop to this entirely.

Instead Melinda just looks up at him, panting, and licks her bottom lip.

Yep. That's a thing he can work with.

He lets her go, and she stays this time, not reaching out for him. She must think he's going to be merciful, because she sighs when he lowers his mouth again, kissing along the sensitive underside of her breast. It's a miscalculation on her part, because he bites down, sucking hard; she twists away, but he puts his hand on her stomach, holding her down, keeping her in place while he sucks a mark there, enough that he knows she'll still feel it tomorrow. That idea makes him want to do it even harder, but he stops, resisting the temptation. There's time for that later.

He looks up at her when he lets her go, but she has her eyes shut, her hands fisted in the sheets. "If you don't want that to happen again, maybe you shouldn't test me," he tells her; she jumps when he nips her in the same spot on her other breast. "If you do want it to happen again, it's no trouble at all." He kisses her stomach, steadily moving lower. "Either way, I'm not stopping unless you say the magic word."

Melinda doesn't come anywhere close to saying it; she seems like she's having no problems with this at all, which is exactly what Phil likes to see. He keeps kissing downwards, over her abdomen, moving on to the inside of her thigh. He leaves bites all up and down her thighs, overlapping rings of his teeth, goaded on by the way she keeps making broken noises, spreading her legs wider. She's definitely wet, all but dripping for him, and he wants more than anything to taste her, to see what she's like on his tongue.

Luckily it's his show, and he can do that if he damn well pleases.

"You're not allowed to come until I say you can," he says, looking up at her. He bites her thigh again when she doesn't respond. "Repeat what I told you."

"I can't come," Melinda says, her voice strained.

"That's not everything," Phil chides.

"Until you let me," she pants.

Just hearing her say it like that makes him feel like he might come in his pants. He tries to distract himself before he can, get back to what he was doing; the problem there is what he was about to do was lower his mouth to Melinda's cunt. A split-second after he does it, he realizes that it's just about the worst way he's ever thought of to keep himself from coming. 

Really great plan there. He should write a book.

He keeps it together, albeit narrowly, focusing in on her, trying to figure out exactly what to do to make her scream. She's certainly making noise, but he wants to hear more, wants to know what it's like when she loses control for him. To her credit, she hasn't tried to touch him again, her hands still obediently over her head, but he can see how hard it is not to move; her muscles are tense with the effort of it, of trying to be good for him.

Phil's not over that, the fact that she wants to be, the fact that she'll let him do this, _only_ him. He really can't believe his luck, that she'll turn it all over to him, her strength, her will, the whole incredibly powerful thing that she is. He has absolutely no idea what he's done to deserve it, but he'll damn well accept it with gratitude.

She's moaning now, loud and unreserved, and despite her best efforts she's starting to work her hips, looking for more of Phil's mouth. He knows she's getting very close, so he stops, flicking his tongue over her clit before he pulls away; forced orgasm is a thing for another time. When he sits up, Melinda is looking at him with narrowed eyes, like she's deeply annoyed with him.

"Give me that face again and see what happens," Phil says; he's not actually sure what he'd do, but it sounded cool. He watches her face as he reaches for his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping his fly; she's staring raptly, biting down on her lip, and he slows down just because of it, drawing it out. He pushes his pants down around his thighs, pausing for a moment before he pulls the waistband of his boxer briefs away from his skin, lowering them past his cock and pushing them down.

Melinda looks like she's maybe fifteen seconds from tackling him.

"I'm not going to fuck you until you beg," Phil tells her. His cock slides against her as he bends down to kiss her, and he has to make an effort not to moan into her mouth; he'd really, really like to just thrust in and be done with it, but he's going for something here.

"Do it," she says breathlessly. "Fuck me."

"See, that wasn't a request," Phil says. "That was more of an order." Melinda makes a noise of frustration, straining up towards him, and Phil puts his hands on her hips, holding her down. "You're not getting it if you don't use your words."

Melinda looks like she doesn't want to, and for a moment, Phil wonders what's going to happen. If she feels like she's not up to begging, that's fine; it's just that he can't back down. That would be saying that he'd fuck her with or without permission, and if nothing else, that would make a pretty poor first impression.

"Please," she finally says. "Please fuck me."

"Yeah?" Phil teases, wrapping his hand around his cock. "Is that what you want?"

"Please," she repeats. "I want you to-"

The rest of her words turn into a gasp as he pushes inside of her. He groans, because she feels perfect around him, hot and so wet. She rocks up to meet him as he starts to move, fucking her fast and hard. It's obviously important to him to make sure she's enjoying this, but god, he needs this right now- and conveniently enough, he gets to take it.

He puts his hands around her wrists, holding her down while he thrusts into her over and over again. "You're doing good," he says, leaning in close to speak into her ear. "So good for me."

"Phil," she gasps, sounding lost, overwhelmed. "Phil, I-"

"Just let go," he tells her, kissing her hair. "It's okay. I've got you."

She moans, arching towards him, working her hips to take him deeper. Being able to do this all night long is a nice thought; maybe some other time, but not now, not when they've come this far, not when it's like this. He doesn't know the last time he wanted it this much, needed someone so badly. He gives her the best that he can, trying to make it count, stretching it out until he knows she's as bad off as he is, just as desperate.

"Do you want to come?" he asks; he tries for level and confident, but it comes out kind of strangled and desperate, which is much closer to how he actually feels.

"Yes," she moans. " _God_ yes, Phil."

"You ready?" he says, moving faster.

"Shit," she hisses. "Yes, come on, please-"

"Then do it," he says, pushing into her deeper, and she comes almost immediately, clenching around him hard; he can't handle it for another instant, just falls over with her, his fingers digging into her skin as it hits him, needing something to latch onto so he won't break into pieces, fly apart.

When he finally comes back to himself, he tugs off his shirt, dropping it beside the bed as he kicks out of his pants and underwear. He doesn't want anything between them now, wants to be close to her as he can get, as fast as he can do it. He lays down beside her, pulling her into his arms; she's making little sated noises, which he figures is a pretty big compliment all things considered. There's a long moment where that's the only sound, the only thing he needs to hear, the only thing he cares about.

"Was that good?" he asks eventually.

"Yeah," she sighs, settling in closer to him.

"Tell me how you feel right now," he says, brushing a stray lock of hair off her face.

Melinda snorts. "I feel like you should shut up and hold me."

"Fair enough," he says, kissing the top of her head.

They can talk later about what comes next; he hopes there's more, so much more, but he's not the only one whose opinion matters. For now that's secondary, something that can wait for the future. Instead he holds her close, listening to the rhythm of her breathing as she falls asleep.

\--

There are new personnel joining them today. Phil is always shocked when there are new personnel, but there are some, SHIELD agents who were in deep cover when the Triskelion fell. Phil's pretty certain they can be trusted, enough that he let them in; even if Koenig's improved testing hadn't come back clean, the shell-shocked looks when they tell him about what the missing fourth member of their team did that day- and what they had to do to him- tell Phil everything he needs to know.

Now they're being briefed by Mack and Fitz; Fitz is getting better and better at expressing himself with Mack to help him, which Phil is enormously, pathetically grateful for. Still, the newbies look a little confused, but really, Fitz had that effect on people long before his injury. Besides, they should probably get used to confusion around here. They're going to be exposed to a lot of it.

He's standing next to Melinda, watching the scene from the hallway. Well, he's watching; even though she hasn't actually told him she is yet, Melinda is performing threat assessments. She'll be lurking behind them for days, finding weaknesses. 

Phil's just glad she's not doing it to him. It's very unsettling.

She's studying the one on the end, looking him over with a critical eye. Phil leans towards her. "Seems like your type," he tells her.

Melinda turns to him, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Phil shrugs. "Tall, handsome, a little surly. I thought that's how you liked them."

"You can quit mocking me any time," she says.

"I'm not mocking you," he says. "If anything I'm mocking him, though I don't actually hold any ill will towards him." Melinda is giving him a look that she's more pissed than he intended to make her. She glances meaningfully at the crowd in the lab, then back to him; even though they're well out of earshot already, he holds out a hand, indicating the hallway. "C'mon. We'll take a walk."

The armory is the closest room with no people in it; Phil gestures her in and shuts the door behind them.

"Don't you dare say shit like that to me," Melinda says, without prelude.

"I'm sorry," Phil says, and she doesn't respond. "You have this look like I need to apologize more, and I don't really know how big I need to go."

"Don't mock me for being something you don't want me to be," Melinda says, which isn't any less confusing.

"The only thing I want you to be is with me," Phil says. "I thought that part was pretty obvious."

"Will you just give it up?" she snaps. "You don't need to rub it in."

It suddenly clicks for Phil, what she's upset about; he doesn't like it. "Submitting to me doesn't make you not dominant, not unless you want it to," he says, and the look on her face says he hit it right. "It adds. It doesn't subtract. I hope you know that. I don't actually want you running off to top other guys, but only because we're in a relationship. You topping other guys, gonna have to clear that with me first."

Melinda looks at him for a long moment. "You're still an asshole for teasing me about other men," she says finally.

"Eh," he says, shrugging. "I'll cop to that part."

"Are you actually serious about me playing with other people?" Melinda asks, looking wary.

"I'm not letting you top Wilkins," he says, "even if he is your type."

"He's not my type," Melinda protests.

"He's completely your type," Phil replies.

"I could drop him with one punch," she says dismissively. "I like them bigger than that."

"Wilkins aside, I am serious about it," Phil says. "But only with me."

Melinda eyes him. "I didn't think you would be interested in that."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Phil says. "I love dominant women. I just don't like being on the receiving end." He pulls her over, kissing her. "But right now, we're on the clock."

"First of all, we don't have a clock," she says, though she doesn't move away. "Second, I fail to see how you bringing me in here is my problem."

"Didn't say it was," he says, kissing her again before he lets her go. "That was mostly a note to self."

"Get back to work, Director," Melinda says, rolling her eyes affectionately.

"Yes, ma'am," Phil replies, opening the door to the armory and holding it for her.

And so they go back to work, and days get saved, and life, in the long run, barring some _very_ unfortunate missteps, generally gets better. And he does it with her at his side, because really, she is his girl, and he did pick her for a reason, albeit one that had nothing at all to do with what some random goon would think of at first glance.

He's just not going to tell her that to her face. He saw what happened to the last guy.


End file.
